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A dismembered leg. I grimace. Unpleasant, I know, but I have seen worse. When you live where I do, well, these things happen.

Oh no, a purple tutu with little pink hearts. Poor thing. Did she really even want to wear that? I wonder, if she had a choice. Probably not. I take a deep breath.

That smell, so familiar, and disturbing. Unable to stop myself, I follow a wet sticky trail of red drops. Ugh. No, no, its just horrible. Then, I see it, the other leg!

I want to scream, but I bite my lips and clench my fists. I have to stay calm.

“Look at her swim!” I hear a gleeful squeal, as a lifeless head and torso is pushed through a pool of sticky red fluid.

Its too late to call for back up. I’ve been seen ...

She pounces onto me. “Look Mama, I’ve made a red swimming pool for my Flowerie,” she gurgles. Her eyes shine as she points to the baking pan filled with strawberry jam. She’s clearly tasted some of that swimming pool, I can tell, for her cheeks are pink and sticky.

I roll my eyes. Flowerie is her favorite doll.

“And why did you break her legs?” I ask, sternly.

“They wouldn’t fit in the pool, Mama. So I took them off. Don’t worry, I’ll put them back on later,” she assures me.

So logical and practical. Sigh.

I know back up has finally arrived, when I hear her dad say, “Lets get some buttered toast to clean this place up.”